Alex Maskara
Thoughts, Stories, Imagination of Filipino American Alex Maskara
~
I am trying to return to my good old habits. At my senior age, I now have the privilege of filtering tasks—choosing those that bring me the most joy and setting aside those that don’t. Leisurely habits, like internet surfing and social media, are beginning to feel more like distractions than sources of fulfillment. They are entertaining, but as a means of self-enrichment, they fall short. Personally, I lean toward good old reading and creative self-expression. These are timeless traditions that cannot be replaced simply because new technologies are more exciting or trendy.
Take art, for example. Creating art is far more fulfilling than merely consuming it through a screen. Similarly, reading a webpage that summarizes a book pales in comparison to reading the entire book yourself and forming your own impressions. This principle applies to sciences, learning, and skills—they are more enjoyable and enriching in their raw, unprocessed forms. It’s akin to food: the meals you plant, harvest, and prepare yourself are more satisfying than those bought from a store.
When I was young, I was always pressed for time. In the hustle of earning a living, I often paused and prayed for a future when I could stop working and indulge in the things I love—like reading. We’ve all had those moments when we were young and busy, vowing to pursue our passions once we had the time, assuming we’d still have the health and resources to enjoy them. Time is our most precious resource, and the last thing we want is to squander it when it finally becomes ours to control.
Now, in my retirement, I’ve discovered a new challenge: taming the technology that could easily consume this hard-earned free time. I’m talking about the internet and, more specifically, social media. At one point, I was deeply immersed in it. But over time, I realized it was pulling me away from the dreams I had nurtured in my youth. I had envisioned retiring to a quiet village, surrounded by fields, forests, and mountains, reading book after book, journeying into different worlds, and meeting fascinating characters. I even dreamed of creating my own characters.
Instead, I found myself caught up in the digital world. Meanwhile, the family I once imagined spending my time with is fading. My siblings and old friends are passing away, one by one. The generation before me is already gone, leaving only my peers and me, each confronting the same inevitable decline.
This realization has brought urgency to my remaining time. Now, my focus is on creating memories and storing meaningful experiences. Technology plays a role in this; I take pictures of everything I encounter and store them digitally. Some of these images I post on social media, which has its benefits. However, the initial promise of social media—to connect us with family and friends—has been overshadowed by algorithms designed to addict users, measuring self-worth through likes and views.
While there’s nothing inherently wrong with this business model, I’ve realized that pursuing likes and views can easily become a trap. For someone like me, it’s easy to mistake fleeting digital engagement for potential success. Yet the reality, based on my own experience, is that it’s often a futile pursuit. The saddest part is how these platforms can hypnotize you, luring you into an endless cycle of scrolling—image after image, reel after reel—until hours of precious time have vanished.
I’ve resolved to take control. I now limit my social media use to two hours a day. This time includes creating digital content to store the imagery and events of my life, which I can revisit when I’m no longer able to experience them physically. I imagine myself in a nursing home, alone in my room, holding these snapshots of a life once filled with action. To me, that is the greatest value of today’s technology.
But there is something else equally important.
Every individual is uniquely gifted. I firmly believe that each of us has talents—something we excel at because we seek it out, practice it, and share it enthusiastically with others.
(to continue)
2024-12-05 20:56:55
bookreviews
### Measure of Success
“It is over,” he said.
As those words fell from his lips, the entire nation erupted into sorrow. "Apu," they cried, "don’t leave us! We are lost without you. You are our hero, our greatest writer, our leader, our philosopher…”
“Enough, you idiots!” he thundered, pressing his hands against his ears. His voice cracked like a whip, silencing their pleas. “Enough with your empty praises and hollow words. Stop speaking, you spineless, witless masses! Let me not hear another word from any of you.”
With that, he slammed the door, shutting out the world. From that moment, no one dared approach him. Whispers spread—had their hero gone mad?
He had not lost his mind. He had simply withdrawn to understand the measure of his life. Standing by the window, he gazed out at the city—his city, his country. His chin rested heavily on the cold steel frame of the very window through which thieves had crept countless times. A window that bore silent witness to the slow decay of his land and its people.
The streets were filled with the wretched poor. Divisions among the populace ran deep, sanitation was nonexistent, and the bridges were crumbling relics of a forgotten time. The fish in the ponds carried poison, infecting the minds of his people with dullness and apathy. Their weak thinking mirrored their poisoned state. Kindness was mocked; reform was futile. The only certainty in the land was uncertainty itself. Why, he cried inwardly, why had it all come to this?
He was revered as the greatest mind his country had ever known. He had ensured that no one else could achieve anything close to his brilliance. When confronted by political adversaries, he demolished them with sharp, unforgiving words, leaving them incapable of challenging him. His enemies conspired to kill him, but he outmaneuvered them, turning their schemes inward until they destroyed one another.
Through his daily newspaper columns, he sowed suspicion across the land. “Everyone is guilty of something,” he proclaimed, and the people, awed by his eloquence, believed him. His influence was so pervasive that the nation began to think, speak, and write as he did. To his followers, no one—whether politician, businessman, student, parent, priest, Catholic, or Muslim—was beyond reproach. Everyone was guilty until proven otherwise.
His philosophy was simple: to rise above others, tear them down. To smell sweet, ensure that everyone else reeks. To be superior, humiliate all who stand below. The philosophy was so easy to follow, it worked flawlessly. He became the best-smelling, most superior man in the country.
And so, everyone else failed. Failure became his country’s destiny.
By the end of his life, he was the most beloved figure in a nation of crooks. Yet he lived in constant fear of assassination. His home, fortified with the most advanced security systems, stood as a fortress against the desperate neighbors who had turned to theft and kidnapping to survive. His brilliant ideas, immortalized in writing, lay unread by an increasingly illiterate nation. He was celebrated as the greatest because he had silenced all who dared disagree. He was a philosopher in a country that no longer knew how to think.
On the night of his death, he reflected on it all—his victories, his philosophy, his legacy.
“It is over,” he said.
2024-11-30 12:58:08
shortstories
Readings (part1)
I am trying to return to my good old habits. At my senior age, I now have the privilege of filtering tasks—choosing those that bring me the most joy and setting aside those that don’t. Leisurely habits, like internet surfing and social media, are beginning to feel more like distractions than sources of fulfillment. They are entertaining, but as a means of self-enrichment, they fall short. Personally, I lean toward good old reading and creative self-expression. These are timeless traditions that cannot be replaced simply because new technologies are more exciting or trendy.
Take art, for example. Creating art is far more fulfilling than merely consuming it through a screen. Similarly, reading a webpage that summarizes a book pales in comparison to reading the entire book yourself and forming your own impressions. This principle applies to sciences, learning, and skills—they are more enjoyable and enriching in their raw, unprocessed forms. It’s akin to food: the meals you plant, harvest, and prepare yourself are more satisfying than those bought from a store.
When I was young, I was always pressed for time. In the hustle of earning a living, I often paused and prayed for a future when I could stop working and indulge in the things I love—like reading. We’ve all had those moments when we were young and busy, vowing to pursue our passions once we had the time, assuming we’d still have the health and resources to enjoy them. Time is our most precious resource, and the last thing we want is to squander it when it finally becomes ours to control.
Now, in my retirement, I’ve discovered a new challenge: taming the technology that could easily consume this hard-earned free time. I’m talking about the internet and, more specifically, social media. At one point, I was deeply immersed in it. But over time, I realized it was pulling me away from the dreams I had nurtured in my youth. I had envisioned retiring to a quiet village, surrounded by fields, forests, and mountains, reading book after book, journeying into different worlds, and meeting fascinating characters. I even dreamed of creating my own characters.
Instead, I found myself caught up in the digital world. Meanwhile, the family I once imagined spending my time with is fading. My siblings and old friends are passing away, one by one. The generation before me is already gone, leaving only my peers and me, each confronting the same inevitable decline.
This realization has brought urgency to my remaining time. Now, my focus is on creating memories and storing meaningful experiences. Technology plays a role in this; I take pictures of everything I encounter and store them digitally. Some of these images I post on social media, which has its benefits. However, the initial promise of social media—to connect us with family and friends—has been overshadowed by algorithms designed to addict users, measuring self-worth through likes and views.
While there’s nothing inherently wrong with this business model, I’ve realized that pursuing likes and views can easily become a trap. For someone like me, it’s easy to mistake fleeting digital engagement for potential success. Yet the reality, based on my own experience, is that it’s often a futile pursuit. The saddest part is how these platforms can hypnotize you, luring you into an endless cycle of scrolling—image after image, reel after reel—until hours of precious time have vanished.
I’ve resolved to take control. I now limit my social media use to two hours a day. This time includes creating digital content to store the imagery and events of my life, which I can revisit when I’m no longer able to experience them physically. I imagine myself in a nursing home, alone in my room, holding these snapshots of a life once filled with action. To me, that is the greatest value of today’s technology.
But there is something else equally important.
Every individual is uniquely gifted. I firmly believe that each of us has talents—something we excel at because we seek it out, practice it, and share it enthusiastically with others.
(to continue)
2024-12-05 20:56:55
bookreviews
Measure of Success
### Measure of Success
“It is over,” he said.
As those words fell from his lips, the entire nation erupted into sorrow. "Apu," they cried, "don’t leave us! We are lost without you. You are our hero, our greatest writer, our leader, our philosopher…”
“Enough, you idiots!” he thundered, pressing his hands against his ears. His voice cracked like a whip, silencing their pleas. “Enough with your empty praises and hollow words. Stop speaking, you spineless, witless masses! Let me not hear another word from any of you.”
With that, he slammed the door, shutting out the world. From that moment, no one dared approach him. Whispers spread—had their hero gone mad?
He had not lost his mind. He had simply withdrawn to understand the measure of his life. Standing by the window, he gazed out at the city—his city, his country. His chin rested heavily on the cold steel frame of the very window through which thieves had crept countless times. A window that bore silent witness to the slow decay of his land and its people.
The streets were filled with the wretched poor. Divisions among the populace ran deep, sanitation was nonexistent, and the bridges were crumbling relics of a forgotten time. The fish in the ponds carried poison, infecting the minds of his people with dullness and apathy. Their weak thinking mirrored their poisoned state. Kindness was mocked; reform was futile. The only certainty in the land was uncertainty itself. Why, he cried inwardly, why had it all come to this?
He was revered as the greatest mind his country had ever known. He had ensured that no one else could achieve anything close to his brilliance. When confronted by political adversaries, he demolished them with sharp, unforgiving words, leaving them incapable of challenging him. His enemies conspired to kill him, but he outmaneuvered them, turning their schemes inward until they destroyed one another.
Through his daily newspaper columns, he sowed suspicion across the land. “Everyone is guilty of something,” he proclaimed, and the people, awed by his eloquence, believed him. His influence was so pervasive that the nation began to think, speak, and write as he did. To his followers, no one—whether politician, businessman, student, parent, priest, Catholic, or Muslim—was beyond reproach. Everyone was guilty until proven otherwise.
His philosophy was simple: to rise above others, tear them down. To smell sweet, ensure that everyone else reeks. To be superior, humiliate all who stand below. The philosophy was so easy to follow, it worked flawlessly. He became the best-smelling, most superior man in the country.
And so, everyone else failed. Failure became his country’s destiny.
By the end of his life, he was the most beloved figure in a nation of crooks. Yet he lived in constant fear of assassination. His home, fortified with the most advanced security systems, stood as a fortress against the desperate neighbors who had turned to theft and kidnapping to survive. His brilliant ideas, immortalized in writing, lay unread by an increasingly illiterate nation. He was celebrated as the greatest because he had silenced all who dared disagree. He was a philosopher in a country that no longer knew how to think.
On the night of his death, he reflected on it all—his victories, his philosophy, his legacy.
“It is over,” he said.
2024-11-30 12:58:08
shortstories